Winter Colds
by totheextraordinarykb
Summary: Based on a prompt from an anon on Tumblr. Set pre-"Always". Beckett catches a cold and Castle convinces her to go home and takes care of her.
1. Chapter 1

**Winter Colds**

_**Prompt from Anon: Beckett catches a cold and Castle convinces her to go home and takes care of her.**_

Disclaimer: I am so not Andrew Marlowe, and you can't even begin to comprehend how sad that makes me.

* * *

**Chapter One:**

Reaching quickly for the tissue box, Beckett's groan of disapproval was cut off by the sharp sound of a sneeze. Blowing her nose as quietly and inconspicuously as possible, she tossed the tissue into the trash can before turning her head to the board in front of her. God damn, this stupid murder just wouldn't work itself out.

Castle looked to the woman next to him, and then to the trash bin, where fifteen tissues were piled up. "Hey, Beckett," he said, waiting for the woman to turn and look at him. "Beckett, you need to go home. You're running yourself ragged. You've slept on the break room couch twice, and clearly you've got a cold. Go home. This case will be waiting for you tomorrow."

Beckett turned away, annoyed by the interruption. It was just a sneeze. This case was important. A twenty-one year old, her life cut short by a suicide attempt – or so they had thought, when she had been found hung in her closet. Lanie's autopsy had turned up suspicious details – like traces of date rape drugs in her system, and bruising on her arms – and ever since then, they'd been trying to figure out who'd had it in for the girl. The boyfriend, who was notoriously jealous? The best friend, who felt abandoned? The guy In her physics class, with the creepy smile and too many photos of her in his room?

But they all had alibis, air tight ones. Damn. Beckett rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling the effects of running on no sleep.

"Beckett, come on."

She turned to Castle, determined to tell him off, but his concerned face made her pause for a moment. Catching a glimpse of Rebecca's smiling face in her peripheral, though, she steeled herself. "Come on, what? Castle, who cares? I sneezed once or twice. It's not a big deal. A **murder**-" she emphasized the word, pointing to the board, "that's a big deal. Let it go."

Castle sighed. Beckett and her need for heroics. He knew the murder was a big deal – he was the one who couldn't help but see a little of Alexis in the victim. He was the one who texted his daughter every time he got nervous about her safety, which meant Alexis was receiving texts every forty five minutes, the tone of her replies getting progressively more annoyed.

But Beckett needed a night of sleep, needed to get home. He knew her – Kate broke cases when she was well-rested, missed details when she was running on caffeine. Leaning back, he searched for some way to convince her to go home, eyes first landing on the office that used to be Montgomery's. Before, he could have texted the Captain discreetly, made him order Kate home. But not anymore. Eyes shifting away, he spotted the trash can. Perfect.

"Really? Once or twice?" Beckett held up a hand, as though trying to shush him. He picked up the waste basket, shook it in front of her. "Once or twice? This isn't once or twice." Beckett's eyes grew a little larger. Interesting, he thought, apparently Kate got so absorbed in cases she didn't notice when she got sick. He filed away the note, to use for Kate's benefit or Nikki's, he wasn't sure.

"I, uh… I have allergies?" Kate lamely explained.

"In the middle of the winter? I don't think so." His voice dropped a bit, laced with concern. "Come on, Kate. Go home, take a bath, get some sleep. I'll even make you some of my famous chicken noodle soup."

Beckett's eyes went wide at Castle's use of her first name – he only did that when he really wanted her to listen, when he was trying to reach the woman behind the detective. With a quirk of her mouth, she responded, "Oh boy. Are you sure it's not famous for making people sick? I'm not sure I trust a Castle concoction." Of course, the words weren't true. She'd eaten at his apartment enough to know he was a fantastic cook. But still, she couldn't help the joke. Looking back at the murder board, taking advantage of the hurt look on his face as he searched for the perfect comeback, she performed some mental calculations. She could afford the eight hours or so off, get about six hours of sleep. Rebecca would be waiting, and she wasn't going to get any new witnesses in the next few hours.

Taking out her phone, she took a quick snap of the board, a reference in case she woke with any brilliant thoughts. It was a trick she had learned from Castle, and he was smiling at her when she turned his way. Damn. Clearly he realized she'd picked up the habit from him.

"What are you smiling about, Castle? You're about to become my personal servant – food, drink, blanket runs, working you ragged while I relax… Sound like fun?" She began walking out, and he lagged behind a moment.

He whispered a single word, almost as though the thought couldn't be contained, so quietly she almost didn't hear. "Yes." But Kate did, smiling down at the floor, before schooling her face as she heard him approach quickly behind her.

"Oh, Castle, you're so going to regret this offer. According to everyone I know, I apparently become a terrible witch of a person when sick. This one time…"

The elevator doors closed, Beckett's voice abruptly gone from the Homicide floor.

Ryan and Esposito turned to each other, before Ryan spoke. "Does she realize she never told us she was going home for the night?"

"More importantly, does she realize she just invited Castle over to spend the night waiting on her hand and foot? Damn, that boy's in love."

"He's totally going to make a move."

"Ugh, gross. That's Mom and Dad you're talking about!" The boys turned to each other, grabbing their coats, and burst out laughing, their parent joke never getting old.

Esposito smiled, "Let's hope not. I really don't want Martha to win the pot, and she'd be the closest one. Two more weeks, damn it, so I can win!"

The two men entered the elevator, as Ryan said, "I still can't believe you took Christmas Day! I wanted that one. I had to settle for freaking New Years. They're never going to last to New Years, " he grumbled, his face disappointed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Winter Colds**

_**Prompt from Anon: Beckett catches a cold and Castle convinces her to go home and takes care of her.**_

Disclaimer: I am so not Andrew Marlowe, and you can't even begin to comprehend how sad that makes me.

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

After securely locking the door of her apartment, Kate immediately made a beeline for her couch, ignoring the man trailing behind her.

On the cab ride home – Castle insisting she was far too tired to drive, and Kate unwilling to hand over the keys – she had realized Rick was right. She was sick; the runny nose had led to a stomachache. Periodically, she shivered with a chill, though her forehead felt hot to the touch, and it was difficult for her to keep her eyes open, immune system on overdrive.

Snuggling into the two throw blankets she kept on the couch, relishing their warmth, Kate turned to the man beside her. Biting her lip, she thought about what to do with him. To be honest, she didn't really want him around. Since she never got sick frequently, it seemed she'd never learned to deal with it in a grown up manner, instead moping around until a few days later it resolved itself. A lot of the time was spent missing her mother, who had been the perfect companion on sick days, who knew exactly what foods to serve her, what movies to play, the blankets that warmed her up without overheating her. When sick, all she wanted was her mom.

"Hey, Castle. Thanks for, you know, getting me home. But seriously, I'll be okay. Head home. I'm sure Alexis and Martha will be wondering where you are." She smiled at him, urging him out.

Castle wasn't giving up so easily. Sitting on her couch, pulling her feet into his lap, he warmed them with his hands. "I'm not going anywhere." She started to protest, but he continued to speak before she had a chance. "Hey. I meant what I said. I've got you home. Now I have to make sure you get some much needed sleep and some of my chicken noodle soup."

Kate squirmed her feet away from his hands, suddenly ticklish, and pulled the covers over her head. "Castle, I'm sick. This is not what being partners is about. You're supposed to follow me at work, not when I'm sick with a fever."

Castle laughed, before leaning over her body to pull the blanket down slightly, enough so he could see her eyes. "Au contraire, my muse. I'm finding this all very educational for Nikki. Who knew she'd turn into such a child when sick, hiding her head away from the world?" He moved his head to move her hair back, his hand lingering for a moment. God, she was beautiful, even pale with sickness.

He was startled by a knock at the door, before pushing Kate down. "Stay, stay, it's a delivery for me." He had texted Alexis on the way to the apartment, asking her to bring over some of his frozen soup. Grabbing the bags from Alexis at the door, one filled with a large Tupperware of soup, the other with a few cans of ginger ale, he smiled at her, kissing her forehead lightly. "Thanks, sweetheart. I'll be home tomorrow, okay? I'm going to make sure Beckett gets better, because goodness knows she's incapable of taking the time to recover." Alexis smiled, before exiting with a "I love you!"

Rick looked over to the woman on the couch. Her head covered by the blankets, he watched her chest rise slowly up and down, not yet asleep, but resting peacefully. He put the soup on to warm, before cracking open a can of ginger ale, pouring it into a cup, and grabbing a straw.

Entering the living room, he kneeled next to Kate's head. "Hey, you."

She moaned a little, annoyed at the disturbance. She hadn't been asleep, but she was close. "What?"

"I've got some ginger ale for you, thought your stomach might be feeling the sickness."

She rolled over, pulled the blanket off her head, before sipping from the offered glass. Taking it into her hands, glad for its chill, she frowned. She hadn't told Rick she had a stomachache, did she? "Umm… Rick?"

The childlike confusion on her face was just adorable, and Castle couldn't help but stroke her cheek, trying to erase some of the lines. Knowing the question on her mind, he answered, "I guessed. You know, fever, runny nose? It was a logical conclusion." Getting up, ladling out a cup of soup, he brought it to her.

Kate eyed the dish warily. It wasn't that she didn't trust his cooking – she did, now, after years of being surprised by the quality of his cooking, she'd grown used to his abilities – but was worried about her stomach tolerating it. Rick nodded, encouraging her, so she took a first slurp. It was excellent, light enough to not upset her stomach, but flavorful enough to make her enjoy eating it. Rick hadn't been lying about his abilities. A small hum of approval escaped her lips as she took her second spoonful. "God, you weren't lying. This is just what I needed." She smiled at him, the joy at his face making her heart leap a little.

Before long, the bowl was done, and Kate was having difficulties keeping her eyes open. Rick was sitting next to her on the couch, and her head kept falling against his chest as she drifted off. Rick shifted them, his body cocooning hers, arms around her torso, his chest her pillow. "Mmm, you're a good pillow, Rick," she muttered, snuggling in more closely, all inhibitions gone by the need for comfort in the face of illness. Rick welcomed her with open arms, nuzzling his nose into her hair, staying silent to allow her to fall asleep more quickly. It didn't take long, but in some muddled half-dream state, he heard a few muttered words escape her lips, "Thanks… I love…" He smiled, able to make the connections, heart quickening as he pressed a kiss to her head.

Whispering, he confessed his feelings once more to the detective. "I love you too, Kate."

One day, he knew, one day they'd both say it aloud, awake, no sniper, no illness forcing the words out. One day, he knew, they'd be saying it on an altar, friends and family cheering them on. One day, he knew, they'd be saying it as they watched their children graduate from college, get married, have children of their own.

But for now, Richard Castle could be content to hold his Kate Beckett and nurse her back to health.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: this could potentially contain distressing descriptions, although I believe I kept this very tame (to allow the T rating to remain accurate)._

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

Kate was paralyzed, alone in the darkness. She tried to call out for help, but the words only floated out, silent, taunting. Heart racing, Academy training kicked in as she forced herself to slow her breathing, counting each one internally.

After ten seconds, the panic had subsided enough for her to investigate with an keen eye. She appeared to in a sitting position, although she could not feel or see what she was sitting on. Commanding each part of her body to move, none responded. She could not move her eyes, could not lift even a finger. Her body was not bound, thankfully, but the paralysis was almost worst. She was so close to freedom, if only she could move. Once again, she called out and her voice was non-existent. She could hear nothing and see nothing.

Wait. In the distance… what was that? A tiny spot of light shined through, a pinpoint of brightness in the darkness. It grew closer, and she could see now that there was a figure standing in the darkness. What was this?

A man stood before her, glaring down at her. His face was unremarkable, yet somehow familiar. In every one of his features, hardness was etched. This was a man who had seen great evil, and had come to embody this same steeliness. He stood tall, using every inch of his six feet to his advantage, and the height made him tower above Kate's seated figure. He spoke not a word, but Kate could feel the anger radiating from his body. When their eyes met, the grey of his irises startled her, the same grey as cement. Though she was terrified of him, she could not look away. Even if she had had the use of her facilities, she would not have been able to move. He did not blink, not once, and Kate suddenly realized she could not blink either.

After a long while – Kate couldn't tell if it had be minutes or hours – he broke the stare, looking to his left. A sinister smile spread across his lips, small but noticeable, and her mind raced with the implications. What could make a man like this smile?

With every fiber of her body, she strained, trying to turn towards his gaze, trying to prepare for what would come next. It was in vain, her only reward a single bead of sweat, tickling her forehead as it slid down, torturous, tickling, tormenting.

It appeared to distract the man, though, as he leaned down to observe its track down Kate's face, before his fingers wiped it gently from her chin. The movement was almost… loving. He lightly held her chin in his grip, his fingers shockingly cold. After a pause, his grip tightened minutely, his fingers growing even colder, and Kate could almost feel her skin turn to ice where he touched her, felt the coldness radiate out from the points of contact. Her heart fluttered, panicked, the irrational fear of being turned to ice floating through her mind. This could not get worst, could it?

He smiled, as though he had heard the thought, before slowly speaking, the words dripping with distain. "You have no idea."

And like that he released her, stepped into the shadows, and Kate was alone. Her heart and her mind slowed, and she felt the memory slipping away into the darkness, far away, far from now.

* * *

She walked to the crime tape and ducked underneath. The winter cold was biting, but Kate was focused. She had a crime to solve, a murderer to catch, and her mother's box waiting for her in the precinct's records.

Esposito and Ryan were waiting at the body, waiting for her arrival. "Hey, boss," Ryan offered, as she nodded at him. "Vic's name is Elizabeth Warden, according to the driver's license. COD was a single gunshot to the head. Wallet, credit card, and cash were all left in her pockets."

"Not only that," Lanie offered from her crouching position next to the body, "but all her rather flashy jewelry was left too. How are you doing, Kate? Sleeping at all between investigations? You look positively horrible."

She scowled at her best friend, but knew Lanie was telling the truth. Lanie was nothing if not truthful; it was part of her appeal as a friend. Kate just did not care for the talent when it was turned onto her. "Any witnesses?" she asked Esposito.

"No. A couple of people heard the gunshots. But given the area, they decided it would be smarter to call 911 and then head the opposite way as quickly as possible." They were in the middle of a gang war right now, and this turf was highly contested. She didn't blame the locals for retreating, but it made her job harder.

Sighing, she considered the victim, trying to figure out her next steps. "Okay." She looked up at the three faces waiting expectantly for their orders. "Okay, let's get her body to the morgue, Lanie. Tell me what you find. Esposito and Ryan, let's find her family and her work, go interview them." All three nodded, but –

Ryan. She looked down, her shirt showing blood, before looking back to Ryan's falling body. His face was captured in surprise, but his eyes possessed none of the usual twinkle. And as she rushed forward, to do what she wasn't sure, she saw the gash in the side of his head, the missing chunk of skull. There was nothing she could do, but she immediately tried to put pressure on the wound in order to help her friend. Calling frantically for help, she looked up to Esposito to order him to radio into the precinct, in time to see the impossibly quick flash of silver catch him in the shoulder, spin him slightly, before the second hit home in the middle of his forehead. A whistle warned her of a fourth bullet, and for this one she had the presence of mind to yell out "No! Get down!" just as it ripped its way through her best friend's chest and out.

Tears flowing, frantic, she couldn't figure out whom to help, where to turn, what to do, how to cope. As she tried to get help, she watched as uniform after uniform fell to a swarm of bullets – as plentiful as raindrops, only avoiding her body as though she had some invisible force field – and in minutes she was alone, the bodies all around her, torn apart with more holes that anyone could survive.

The grief overwhelming her completely, she closed her eyes, prayed one of the bullets would hit her, because she couldn't survive this, she couldn't have been the only one to live, she couldn't have all of her family, all of her friends, even her acquaintances die, as though she was some angel of death.

The black of her closed eyelids beckoned as the tears still managed escape her closed eyes. Darkness fell.

* * *

She opened her eyes, disappointed she was still alive, hoping to be anywhere but the crime scene. Instead, a strange visage greeted her. There – that was the dresser from her childhood, those posters her favorite movies as a teenager. This was her bed at her parents' apartment, but her dad had moved from this place long ago, and they had sold nearly everything that had once resided here, needing as much distance as possible between themselves and the memories.

"Come on, Katie, come down to breakfast!" The voice hit her hard, the memory twisting its way through her heart. Her mother.

Her mom.

Oh my god, Mom.

Throwing off the covers, she raced through her old home to the kitchen, skidding into the kitchen, narrowly missing a body – her mom.

Oh god. It was, without a doubt, her mother. Smiling at her, with a hint of amusement, before she schooled her features. "As much as I appreciate the talented slide, why don't you go put on actual clothes? You know, unless you want to permanently scar your father by wearing boxers and a sports bra to breakfast."

Kate couldn't help it – she grinned, one of the first honest-to-god grins she's sported in years. And in seconds, she rushed forward to hug her mother, but her arms went around nothing. Her mother's image flickered, like a bad hologram from some second-rate sci-fi film, before it swatted at her hand, never contacting, and saying, "I'm trying to make breakfast here! Hugs can wait." Still reeling with shock, Kate reached out to Johanna's face, open-palmed, hoping she would feel something, but her hand just went through the image.

This was worst that losing her mother. To have her there – saying all the right things, being so… painfully alive – but not there, it was worst than her being gone. Kate just wanted to hug her mom, to feel her arms around her again. She wanted to walk through the park and unabashedly hold her mother's hand, swinging it between them, feeling five years old again. She wanted to link arms with Johanna as they browsed a wedding dress shop.

She didn't want this.

"Mom. Mom, I love you." She needed to hear the words back. That would be enough, had to be enough.

Johanna smiled at her daughter, opened her mouth to speak. "Oh, Katie. I lo-" but all of a sudden the image was gone, the spatula she had been holding falling to the floor with a clash, too loud, too much.

Kate couldn't help as her legs gave out, her knees contacting hard with the tiled floor. She shouted out, but whether in pain or despair she did not know, before her head collided with the floor too, the room going dark.

* * *

She was in Richard Castle's arms. His lips collided against hers, hard, searching, longing. A moan escaped her mouth as his tongue snuck in and danced with hers. It was almost too much – the years of passion suddenly let out – and she was grateful for the wall against her back, keeping her upright. As her hands tangled into his hair, pulling his face closer, she arched upwards into his body, needing more of him, more of Rick, more of her favorite writer, more of her partner.

He pushed back, hard, almost commanding, his hips keeping hers pinned to the wall. His hand captured one of her wrists, then the other, and held them above her head, braced against the wall, before she'd realized it. She tried to pull them down, needing to feel his body, needing to weave through his hair, to rake her fingers against his back, to know this was real, but his grip on her wrists only tightened.

His lips left hers, and their eyes finally met. She would have stepped back if she could have, did try to squirm free. Rick's eyes never had held such hatred. The blue had turned almost grey – the color of concrete, she noticed with a start – and they looked at hers with disgust. There was no trace of the man she loved, no trace of the man who had annoyed his way into her heart; instead, there was only this terrifying hatred and disgust.

In vain, she struggled to get free, but this man - _Rick, oh god, what's happening?_ - with his height advantage and great strength, kept her trapped. His mouth fell to her clavicle, kissed first but then sucked and bit hard, a bruise forming. If it were Rick, really Rick, it would have felt good – but this? She needed to get free. How had she gotten here? Kate Beckett, of all people?

Pleading words fell from her lips, making her cringe with the weakness they displayed, but she could not stop them. "Please. Please stop. Let me go! Please, I just want to go. Please, I'm sorry. Please let me go. I'm sorry, just let me go, please. Please set me free."

He finally looked back up at her with the last plead. "Set you free?" His words were whispered, each consonant stabbing. "You mean, like you let me be free?" He laughed, a harsh one, too loud, too loaded. His eyes flared, tore through her, but Kate was captivated, couldn't look away as much as she wanted to. "You captured me, Kate. You wooed me. You made me love you. You kept me at arm's reach, never too far away, but never letting me in. You never let me be free. You kept me as your supposed partner, ignoring me, only using me when convenient – I was really just your backup plan, wasn't I? A toy to be used, eye candy, another conquest? You didn't want me to be free. You wanted me to be yours, under your terms."

He leaned closer, lips only millimeters from hers. "I am no victim. I will be the victor. I am the author and I will write this story. I created Nikki Heat and I will create this too."

His lips brushed across hers, and it burned her. The fingers of his one free hand ghosted across her skin, leaving trails of fires in their wake. She was burning up, the pain searing through her, but the flames were invisible. His hand landed heavily on her chest, over her heart, and she felt it consumed by flames. The heat flickered, consumed her whole. He stepped back, watching as she stood frozen, unable to move, as a silent scream escaped her lips and she burned and burned.

* * *

She collided, hard, with the ground, her ankle twisting beneath her. The pain flared strongly, the dull throbbing setting in a moment later. Sweat covered her body, and she felt tears streaming from her eyes, unbidden, flowing out of control. She looked around, looking for the new nightmare.

The setting was her apartment, and she was on the floor by her couch. On the coffee table, there was a soup bowl and a glass of something. What was it – poison? Was she going to die painfully this time, struggling for breath? Her mind raced, out of control, looking for the next threat. A hand landed on her shoulder, startling her, and she pushed it away before scrambling to the wall, as quickly as she could with her busted ankle.

Looking for the source of the attack, her eyes landed on Richard Castle. Oh god, oh god, oh god, the memories rushed through her unbidden. The anger, the hatred. She scrambled further as he tried to approach her. What could happen now? The flames, the bullets, the hologram – what new hell could that grey-eyed monster have her trapped in now?

"Kate?" His voice, low, soft, cut through her terror. It was loaded with concern, with love, with tenderness. It was almost too much to take, too much of a contrast.

Because the truth was – the Richard Castle of her dream had gotten it right. Kate had tried to have the best of both worlds, to keep Rick while never letting him close enough to hurt her, to love him while never letting him know.

He should hate her. She hated herself for it.

"Kate, it's me. You had a fever nightmare, a few of them. You kept trying to twist free, to struggle out of them, but you couldn't wake up." He stopped, his voice shaking. "I tried to wake you up, but I think I only made it worst. I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so sorry." He still approached, slowly, steadily, warily.

He was sorry? Mind still muddled with sleep, she couldn't make sense of it. She was the one in the wrong. Why was he sorry? He was… perfect.

Too perfect for her. She was irreparably broken. She was damaged goods. He deserved the best – why did he keep waiting around for her? Why did he want her? He just didn't know better.

While Kate was lost in thought, Rick had reached her side, and slid to the floor beside her, before pulling her into his arms, laying a cool hand on her forehead before pushing back her hair, his other hand soothing down her back. She collapsed, exhausted, into him, unable to give up the comfort of his comfort.

Breaths coming under control, slowly, she whispered, head against his chest, "Rick… you should go." She felt as his body tensed, but he kept up his repetitive motion on his back, urging her on. "You... you don't deserve this. You shouldn't see this, you should be home, be with someone better, be…" she searched for the right words, found it from the dream. "You should be free."

Pulling back out of his arms, she locked eyes with his, and managed to say, steadily, with conviction, "You should be free."

His eyes flickered, too quickly for her to read the emotions, before they settled. He smiled, almost wistfully. "I am free. And I, as a free man, have chosen this. Kate, I am free." He broke their gaze, guiltily. "I should have tried harder to wake you up. It's just that when I tried to shake you awake, you started crying and I just thought… I thought I made it worst, but maybe – I should have gotten you up."

Kate sighed, the exhaustion making her truthful, needing to relive his guilt. "It's not your fault, Rick. You would have made it worse by waking me up; trust me, I know." His eyes met hers, questioning, and she answered it, knowing he had to understand. "I have nightmares at least twice a week." His arms reached for her, inviting, and she gave in, leaned against his chest. "You get used to them, and then one just catches you by surprised and leaves you… well, like this."

The silence lingered, and she knew he was searching for the right words. The author in him always wanted to say the right things in these moments, and she wondered what eloquent statement he would create this time. "I never knew. Had I… god. I never knew, Kate." He held her a little tighter, before continuing. "I'm so sorry Kate. I never knew it was this bad." He leaned into her a bit, protective, sheltering. "You're not alone, Kate. I won't let you be alone in this. You don't have to be alone anymore."

Kate blinked back tears, but the adrenaline from the nightmares was dissipating, and she knew this meant she was minutes from sleep. She wanted to stay awake with Rick, fearful for what waited on the other side of her eyelids, but it was a pointless fight. "I'm okay, Rick. I'm… I'm really tired. But don't stay. Go…" her voice dropped a bit, as her eyelids closed for a moment, before she pulled them open again. "Rick, you don't want this as your future. You don't want me. You were right, you should create a story – just not with me…"

Her eyes shut, stayed close, and her body relaxed against his. Rick's mind raced with her last words. I was right? Create a story?

Carrying her to the couch, setting her on it, pulling a blanket over her, he settled into the space between her head and the armrest, before finally the words made sense. "Oh god," he whispered. He had been in her nightmare. What had he done? What had happened?

His mind spun stories of a nightmare Rick would be involved in, each worst than the next, even as he held Kate's hand, trying to keep her safe in her subconscious. He just wanted her to be safe, to be happy, however he could.

Leaning down, he whispered into her ear, hoping the words would protect her through her dreamscape, "I love you, Kate. I love you, always."

His body sunk into the couch, his fingers stroking her hair, the feel of it comforting as he closed his eyes and lost himself in visions of Ricks that tormented his Kate, set his blood boiling. He wanted to catch each one, threaten them, beat them up, kill them, but he could not catch them. They dodged away, throwing taunts at them both, just escaping his grasp. Before long, he was alone in the dark, and nothing was there to greet him.

The apartment was filled only with the soft sound of breathing, as Rick and Kate got lost in their dreams.

* * *

_Author's Note: So this one kind of ran away from me a bit, but I think the result was okay. As for Kate's reaction at the end, if it had been a normal nightmare, I would have seen her being able to shake it a lot better. The combination of it being fever nightmares (aka worse than normal) and waking unusually made the reaction worst, in my mind at least._

_Let me know what you think? It was my first attempt to do anything more than "emotionally" angsty, and actually do REAL tragedy. It's also my longest chapter of any story to date. As always, reviews are VERY appreciated – can't get better without them!_

_As for the anon on Tumblr who first urged me to write this story, and then the anon who really wanted the angsty version – thank you for the inspiration! I thought about rewriting Chapter Two as angst, but this plot idea hit and I just had to go with it. Hope you like it!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note- there is one slightly graphic description in this chapter. The rating remains at a T (it's no worse than something you'd see in a PG-13 movie) but I figured I would warn ahead of time.  
_

* * *

_**Chapter Four:**_

Richard Castle only values a few things in life. Money had taught him that it's the simplest things that bring you the most joy. For all the adventures he had taken, all the expensive booze he had bought, all the swaggy VIP clubs he had used, they had not brought him true joy.

No, his joy came from seeing Alexis surmount an obstacle or his mother bow after a performance. His joy came from a midnight snack of whipped cream or a particularly eloquent sentence. His joy came from the moments where Kate Beckett let him into her life.

These were the things he needed to feel alive – and the man in grey, who stood in front of him, knew this.

Fixing his grey eyes, the man began to circle around Castle. Captivated, Castle turned with him, keeping their gaze constant. The man with grey eyes – the color of concrete, Castle noticed, trying vainly to find some symbolism in that discovery – began to speak. His voice was low and grave, and every sound carried a note of assured importance. "Well, Richard Castle, here you are. At long last!" He leaned in. "You have no idea how long I've looked forward to this."

Resuming his circle, he inspected Castle curiously. "I don't see what she sees in you, but you wonder the same thing, don't you? How easy it would be for everyone if you weren't there? How powerless you are, how small you are, in the face of the world?" Castle flinched, showing the word's affect on him, and it made the man in grey smile. "Yes, that is your nightmare, isn't it? Being completely ineffectual as the few things that matter just…" he twirled his hand, "fade away."

He stopped his circle. "Yes, Richard, this is going to be fun."

And with a flash of smoke, the man disappeared, and then the room faded to dark.

* * *

Castle sat on the bed of a five-years-old Alexis. The little girl, her bright red hair fanning out over her pillow, smiled up at her father. "Daddy, daddy, tell me a bedtime story, Daddy!" Amused by his daughter's obvious enthusiasm, Castle began to stand up to retrieve a book from the bookcase. But his daughter grabbed his arm, pleading, "No! I want you to make it up, Daddy. Tell me a story, please?"

Castle sat back down with a sigh. "Alexis, honey, I don't write books for little kids. I don't know what to tell you a story of."

Alexis pouted, before her face lit up with an idea. "Dragons! Daddy, tell me about a dragon! And a knight! And a castle, just like us!"

An idea forming in his head, Castle nodded. "Alright. Castle, knights, dragons. Got it." Taking a moment to plan it out, he laid beside his daughter and they both looked at the ceiling.

Closing his eyes, Castle began to speak, his voice taking on a graver quality, a bit lower. It was the voice of a narrator, rather than his normal one. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. She lived in a castle on top of a hill, where she could see around for miles. During the day, she liked to skip and play in nature and the animals would gather all around, chattering at her."

Alexis gasped, and Castle opened his eyes. On the ceiling, a scene had appeared. Alexis, in a gorgeous pink dress, a squirrel eating nuts from her outstretched hand. In the background, a castle rose majestically into the sky. As Castle began to speak again, the scene morphed to show what he described.

"But at night, the princess' favorite thing to do was sit in her bedroom window and watch the dragons soar through the nighttime sky, periodically lighting it up with flashes of fire. You see, in this world the dragons were friends – knights and dragons worked together to keep the princess safe."

The animation on the ceiling showed a brilliant red dragon pass by the castle's window as a handsome knight on its back waved to the princess.

The story had taken on a life of its own, and Castle found he was powerless to stop the words as they tumbled from his mouth. "But one day, a knight arrived at the castle, carrying a scroll. The king read it, and hurriedly locked the princess into her room. She was disappointed and cried, because she did not get to play with her friends in the forest. The king promised her he would take her tomorrow, before disappearing into the castle's depths. Bored, the princess began to read in her favorite window seat. Before long, she saw a creature appear on the horizon. It appeared to be a dragon, but it was unlike any dragon she had seen before. While it was as large as a dragon, it looked like a bat, and it was a horrible black color."

In the animation, the bat appeared to be coming closer and closer, almost coming out of the wall itself. Castle shivered, a bad omen, but he could not stop telling the tale now.

"The princess pushed herself up to the window, trying to see more clearly. On the ground, she saw hundreds of people marching to the castle's walls, but she did not recognize a single one. And the bat was coming closer all the while."

There was no denying it. There was a bat in the room, albeit small at the moment, and Castle tried to close his mouth, but the words still came. With a shock, he recognized the voice emerging from his mouth. It was the voice of the man in the grey suit, who also appeared to be riding the bat that flew around the room. Castle reached for Alexis, but he could not move and he could not stop telling the story.

"Suddenly the window she sat at flew open, and she only just managed to scramble inside before she would have fallen out. She could see the man on the bat's back now. He was just as handsome as the knights, but his eyes showed evil. As much as the princess wanted to, she was unable to move. The king burst into the room, but seconds later he was held back by two men clad in armor. Outside her window hovered the bat, and the man reached inside to grab the princess. Catching her by the wrists, he pulled her onto the bat, waved evilly at the king, and flew away into the clouds, even as the king screamed for his daughter to come back to him. But she never did. He never saw his beautiful princess again. And they all lived in misery."

In Alexis' room, the man in the suit stood beside Castle, a normal-sized bat sitting in his hand. Alexis trembled next to Castle, snuggling close to him. "Daddy, what's happening? Daddy, I don't like this story. Why is this man here? He's bad." The man in the suit leaned down and whispered into Castle's ears, "Why thank you for that story – and your daughter." Laughing sinisterly, he rounded the bed, scooping Alexis into his arms. She was screaming, thrashing, but a little five year old was no match for this man.

Castle cried, hysterically, but could not move an inch. He felt hands on his body, holding him down, but no one was there. He yelled at the man, "What are you doing?! Give me back my daughter. I'll hunt you to the ends of the earth, and then I'll kill you. I'll find you, you sick bastard." The man in grey only laughed, before opening Alexis's window and, with Alexis in his arms, jumping out.

A scream pierced the night – long, horrible. The grief ripping through Castle's heart was enough to kill him, he thought, and the pain was excruciating.

Losing Alexis was like losing his heart.

And as he watched his chest rip open, his heart push itself through his ribs, and fly out the window behind the sinister man and his daughter, he realized just how true those words were before the blackness descended.

* * *

When he next opened his eyes, he was in the middle of a desert at night. He began to shiver, cold in only his boxers. A burst of light erupted in front of him, and he watched as a series of moments flashed before him, projected onto a ratty old drive-in movie theater screen, long since abandoned. The scenes flickered before him, but he could not look away.

Castle, searching his fridge for a bottle of whipped cream, but suddenly realizing it had never been invented.

Patterson, tearing apart his latest novel, calling it crap.

Losing at Halo to Esposito and Ryan, as they high fived and said, "That's why you'll never be a _real_ cop, Castle."

A package from Meredith, suing him for full custody of Alexis.

Alexis, suitcases packed, leaving the loft with a single, "I hate you" thrown over her shoulder.

His mother, in a casket.

Richard Castle finally managed to shut his eyes, the flickering telling him the projections were still going, and willed it all to disappear, for the world to be right again.

* * *

When he opened his eyes finally, he saw Kate. She looked up at him, her body only inches from his, tears shining in her eyes. "Do you understand, Rick?" He did not know what she meant, but he wanted to do anything, needed to do anything to chase the tears out of her eyes.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, and she sank into his chest. They fit together perfectly, he thought, as he brushed his lips against her forehead. The words spilled from his lips, "I love you, Kate." He felt as she stiffened in his arms, but kept holding her close. She tried to push back off of him, hands on his chest, but Castle somehow knew if he let her go, it would be goodbye – forever. His arms stayed linked around her body, until her hands had formed into fist and she was beating on his chest, almost gently, but with increasing fervor. Tears spilled from her eyes. "Let me go, Rick. Let me go!" The way her voice cracked startled him and he released her, stepping back.

She wrapped her arms around her waist, and he realized how small Kate Beckett really was. On her left hand, a ring flashed at him. And on the floor next to Kate sat an overnight bag. Kate lifted a shaking hand to her face, wiping away the tears. "Rick, you don't love me. You just wanted the person you thought I was, and then you tried to make me into her when you realized I was not actually Nikki Heat. You married me, you asked me to have your children. You made me promise to stay away from my mother's case, arranged for it to be bundled up behind my back. You took me to book signings, to release parties, to island resorts." Her voice dropped. "And when I wanted to go back to work, when I said I wasn't that girl, when I tried to be Detective Beckett and not Kate, Richard Castle's wife, you would yell, tell me I was endangering our lives, tell me I was playing loose and fast with your heart."

She pulled the ring off of her finger, putting it on his kitchen counter. "You don't love me. You loved who you thought I could be, but I am not her."

He went to speak, but she only held up a hand, begging him not to interrupt. "You lost me, the real me, Rick, when you thought you could create me."

She turned to the door, picked up her bag and walked to the door. Every footfall echoed in the silence of the apartment, impossibly loud. Hand on the doorknob, she turned to him once more. "I loved you, Rick. More than I ever had loved anyone, more than I ever will. You had me, but you lost me."

And with that, she walked out of his life.

Castle fell to the floor, his legs unable to hold him any longer. He reached up to the counter, found the ring, and stared at it. How could he have lost her?

"Kate, Kate, oh, Kate. I love you, Kate. Kate, come back. Kate," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes. He pressed his palms to his eyes, almost painfully, and he could feel the metal of the ring press against his forehead from where it was gripped in his fingers.

_Oh god, Kate, how could I have lost you? I need you. Kate…_

* * *

Kate Beckett sat up in the dark apartment, glancing over at the clock on the wall. Five am. Her stomach felt much better, and her fever appeared to have broken, thank goodness. She'd be able to go into the precinct in a few hours and finish the case. She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up and identify what had woken her up. As she stretched and yawned, her foot hit something fleshy. Her eyes flew open and she realized Richard Castle was sleeping on her couch, and he was muttering. Leaning in closer, he realized he was saying her name over and over.

She bit her lip and considered her options, but suddenly concerned as Castle's face scrunched into a grimace, she decided to wake him up.

Gently, she reached over and shook his arm lightly, watching as the motion interrupted his dreams, the brief moment of peace in his slumber, before he began moving into wakefulness. She stopped moving her hand, but left her hand on his arms as she sat, cross-legged, next to him on the couch.

A small smile graced her face. She was ready to be strong for Richard Castle, take care of him just as he had taken care of her in her sickness.

_Is this what it means to be in love?_ Kate thought to herself.

* * *

_Author's Note: DON'T KILL ME. I'm sorry I was so mean to Castle! I was going to go into more detail on the Alexis part, but to be honest, I was way too torn up by it to even contemplate expanding it._

_The next chapter should be the final one - and it'll be fluffy! I promise! (Unless somehow it runs away from me... But I won't let it! I'll end fluffy!)_

_Reviews, as always, are VERY appreciated. Thank you for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Alas, Andrew Marlowe and I are not one and the same. Nor am I the corporation ABC. Thanks for making me all depressed, disclaimer. :(_

* * *

_**Chapter Five:**_

Richard Castle woke, still sleepy, and blinked in order to clear his vision. In many ways, the night had seemed to drain him of energy.

But who could blame him? He thought with horror as the memories of his nightmare assaulted him – that damn man with the grey eyes…

As he went to stretch, he realized that he was not in his bed – or his apartment. It was Kate's place; the empty soul bowl reminded him of why he was there. He hoped her fever was gone, and turned to the space beside him on the couch. Alarmed by her absence, he jumped up and spun around.

The motion was rewarded by the sweet sound of laughter, the type that made his heart flutter. He'd know that laugh anywhere. There she was – behind her kitchen counter, cooking something, spatula in hand. "Hey, sleepy pants." She smiled, looked down at her concoction, and deftly flipped a pancake before looking at him once more. "Pancakes are okay, I'm assuming?"

He only nodded, still a little surprised at her good mood. For some reason, Rick had been prepared for the Kate of his nightmares – the one who would push him away, would break his heart, would leave him irreparable and begging for death. But this Kate was the one he loved, and finally a smile spread across his face. "Yes, that's perfect." He approached the kitchen, began to help her get breakfast ready.

It was remarkable how quickly they were able to fall into a rhythm; he would reach around her and retrieve an item, getting out of her way just as she needed access to the range. She could wordlessly point and he knew what she was motioning for. Kate had not realized how many hours Castle had spent at her place, but it suddenly became evident. He knew that she used the short glasses for breakfast, the tall ones at lunch and dinner, that she liked skim milk in her coffee but 1% with food, that she only used honey (which was hidden behind the tea packets in her cabinet) on her pancakes.

They had, for all intents and purposes, become partners in every respect.

The thought scared Kate – but if she was honest, it sent a thrill of excitement through her as well. Partners! With Richard Castle!

She could hardly have dreamt it.

Placing the platter of pancakes down before sitting herself, she motioned to the food. "Dig in!" Castle looked at her for a moment, as though debating telling her something, but it appeared the need for food won in the end as he helped himself to two pancakes and overflowed his plate with maple syrup. She shuttered and looked at his food, speaking with distain, "You're going to put yourself into a sugar coma."

He looked at her plate, motioned at the honey, "Like that's much better!"

"Yes, but I don't attempt to drown my pancakes in honey. What did they ever do to you?"

He was distracted from retorting by the bite of pancake he had eaten. "Mmhmm," he mumbled through a full mouth, "so good!"

Kate smiled slightly at the complement before schooling her features. "Oh come on, Richard Castle! Where are your manners? Eating with your mouth full?! For shame, for shame!" His reproachful look made her laugh, unable to keep up the tough guy act much longer.

Their breakfast was filled with pleasant conversation, and they cleaned up efficiently. It felt like only a few moments later when Castle lingered by the door, preparing to depart. "Castle… thanks for taking care of me last night. I needed to sleep off that fever and cold, you were right."

He looked at her a moment, measuring her patience with him. Could he broach the topic he had been thinking about all morning? She had just given him an opportunity, but he was sure it was not on purpose. Forcibly silencing the alarm bells ringing in his head, he took the chance. "Actually, speaking of last night…" he reached for Kate's hand, pulled her to the couch, where she stared at him. "What did I do?" Kate looked at him blankly, not understanding the question. He clarified, "In the nightmare," Kate stiffened, pulled away slightly, "In your nightmare, what did I do?"

Kate shook her head, looked away from Castle's prying eyes. "It doesn't matter. It was just a dream."

Castle's head moved to be back in her line of sight. "Hey, Kate. Listen to me. I need to know – because that was horrible." His voice dropped, trembled with emotion. "You were crying and were so very frightened, and then at the very end, before you drifted off, you made mentioned of me being there… and I can't bear the thought that I'd ever grace your nightmares. Please, Kate, tell me so I can dash away those thoughts."

She looked into his eyes, saw the tears shining in them. It would hurt him more not to know, she resolved, but she couldn't tell him the whole story. How he had been kissing her, how she had been so happy, before he'd turned, accused her of keeping him close yet still at arm's reach, a backup plan of sorts. She just couldn't reveal that – because it would be revealing that she loved him, and she wasn't ready for that, not quite yet. So instead, she described the end of the dream. "Castle… Rick… it's not important. Really. But… since you really want to know… You and I were standing in your flat, and every place you touched me, I'd go up in flames. Before long, I was standing there consumed by invisible fire and you just watched. It's not important. It's just a nightmare."

Castle knew this couldn't be the whole story – Kate had mentioned the nightmare version of him "writing a story" – but he had no doubt from the way she shivered at the memory that this had indeed happened. "Oh Kate, I'm sorry." He scooted forward and wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her scent. How could he fix this? How could he keep even the figment of him that existed in her subconscious from doing such terrible things? It was a horrifying realization when the answer appeared – he couldn't do anything. This was Kate's mind, her nightmares. He couldn't do anything to stop them; he could just do this… the hug afterwards, the reassuring partner, the never-failing friend, and hopefully, just maybe, the loving boyfriend and husband.

It was only with great strength that Kate was able to extricate herself from Rick's arms. She could have gotten lost in them multiple times over, but his question had sparked one of her own. "Rick, you had a nightmare last night too. You never woke from it, but I was wondering… what was in yours?"

He considered the question before answering, "There were a whole series of dreams. First there was this man – his eyes were as grey as cement, " he saw Kate start with surprise, and decided he'd have to ask about that once he was done his tale, "That's all I remember of him. And then Alexis got taken away because of a story I told, whipped cream wasn't invented – don't laugh, Kate, that is a nightmare!" He frowned at her, more amused by her reaction than anything else, before continuing. "My mother, in a casket, and," his voice dropped, and he found himself almost hoping the woman wouldn't hear, "I lost you."

She leaned forward; evidently, she had heard. "Lost me?"

Castle sighed, considered not answering the question truthfully. The thought was quickly dismissed. Gathering himself to tell the story, he realized he couldn't bear to tell it all – even the memory was too painful – so he trimmed it to its essentials. "I had you. You were in my flat, but then you said goodbye and left, forever."

Kate leaned forward, grabbed his hands. "I'm not leaving, you know. You're my partner. That's a bond that just doesn't break easily, I'm afraid." She said it lightly, hoping to get a smile from Rick, but it didn't work. "Hey. I mean it though. You are my one and only." She meant it in terms of their police work – he was the only partner she had ever taken, and she was happy with that – but as his face lit up she realized the double meaning. Oh crap, she thought, before realizing that perhaps – screw that, definitely – the words weren't a lie, even if applied to her personal life. He was her one and only, and she had known it for a while now, even if they hadn't dated yet. "Oh come on, Rick, stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?!"

"Like a really delicious meal you want to eat."

"I do not want to eat you! Well…" he let the thought linger, both their minds instantly turning to images of them naked.

Kate recovered more quickly, "Why I never! Richard Castle, you have the dirtiest mind ever!" She glanced at her watch. "We should be heading to the precinct; the boys will be wondering where we are." she got up, grabbing her coat and her purse. Behind her, she heard Castle doing the same thing. She blushed for a moment in privacy at the truths she'd accidentally let slip, before heading to the door. Hand on the knob, she turned to look at Castle. "Ready?"

He was staring at her, before drawing close. "Just one more thing."

She glanced down at her watch, exasperated. "Make it quick. We've got a murder to solve." Murder… her mind started racing with the possible connections, and already she was thinking of a few leads they had not yet considered. Castle had been right, she needed the night's sleep to really make headway. Speaking of Castle…

Her vision re-centered on the room, and Kate was suddenly aware of how close Castle was. Only inches separating them, she couldn't help the way her heart began to race. His arms reached to either sides of her, his palms flat against the door, keeping him upright. He leaned his head closer, before saying softly, "Did what you said before mean what I think it meant?"

Her nostrils were filled with the scent of Richard Castle, and his lips were so close that if she just turned the slightest bit, she could capture them in a kiss. As it were, it took her two attempts to get her voice, but the resulting "Yes" was strong, confident.

She was, after all, madly in love with him, and she knew it without a doubt.

He smiled at her – oh, her heart lept at that, wanted to do anything to make him smile like that again – and he pushed back from the wall, looking at her for a moment.

"Well," he motioned for the door, "I thought you said the case was waiting." His voice dropped just a bit, got a bit huskier. "Partner."

Kate schooled herself, got her reactions in check. But this was going to be a long day if he insisted on tormenting her like this. She'd have to plan counteracts. Images of her brushing by his chair just a little too closely, playing with her hair, leaning over so he could see just a little too much cleavage… yes, she thought as she locked her apartment door and headed to the elevator, her partner just behind her, this new step could be very fun.

* * *

_**Author's Note: ALRIGHT! We reached the end... with fluff galore as I promised!**_

_**I was completely overwhelmed by the reception to this piece - when I initially wrote it, it was just a little fluff bunny banged out at work in response to a prompt on Tumblr. And now, thousands of words later, and dozens of followers/favorites, I can't believe it's grown to this. I'm such a proud mama. :)**_

_**I hope you all enjoyed the journey... it was REALLY fun to write! THANK YOU for sticking with me throughout the journey, for reviewing, for favoriting, for following. As always, reviews are much appreciated. If you're looking for more of my writing, I have two other ongoing stories and a one shot. Please check them out! :)**_


End file.
